


Insecurity

by mywildrose223



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Crying, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Insecurity, John Watson is a Good Boyfriend, Johnlock - Freeform, Loving John Watson, M/M, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Vulnerable Sherlock, sorry this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywildrose223/pseuds/mywildrose223
Summary: Basically, Sherlock rarely eats because he is self-conscious about his body and believes he isn't good enough for John. John knows something is going on in his boyfriend's brilliant mind that is a bit not good and tries to convince Sherlock to trust him with this insecurity.It's not directly stated in the story, but Sherlock has an eating disorder. If this is a possible trigger for you, please tread lightly.





	Insecurity

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!!
> 
> Also, thank you for reading my story! I know it isn't very good, but it was just an idea that popped into my head that I felt motivated enough to write. I may add another chapter or an epilogue, but I'm currently undecided.

His stomach rumbled. Sherlock turned his eyes away from his experiment to glare at his stomach. How dare his body make demands of him. It was transport. It shouldn’t need more than the bare minimum it took to keep it running. His body should know by now that it wasn’t going to get food as often as it wanted no matter how much it begged. He had worked hard to get his body this thin and he wasn’t about to ruin it just because his stomach wanted to be greedy. He heard a loud growling noise and pursed his lips.

 

“Shut up!” Sherlock hissed, placing a hand on his abdomen. He wanted to beat it into submission. If he gave in to his hunger he’d become bloated and would look and feel absolutely disgusting. Food wasn’t worth the toll it would take on his thin body.

 

He closed his eyes and put both hands on his body, feeling his protruding bones. Sherlock felt so satisfied. Every time he stepped onto the scale and saw that he’d lost a pound was a small victory. Every time he stepped onto the scale and saw that he’d  _ gained _ a pound made him feel like a failure. Not enough to make himself purge whatever food he had consumed, but a failure nonetheless. The round arch of each of his ribs under his fingertips combined with the hollow, flat, almost numb feeling in his stomach made him slightly less disgusted by his weight. He knew if John ever saw him without his clothes he’d be concerned. He already pestered him to eat semi-regularly as it was. Their relationship had been moving slowly, both because John didn’t want to rush Sherlock into having sex for the first time and because Sherlock was ashamed of his body- a reason he hadn’t shared with John and was too embarrassed to admit.

 

His eyes flew open and his hands returned to the experiment on the kitchen table when he heard the front door close downstairs and the familiar tread of John walking up the stairs. By the time the door to 221B opened, Sherlock had his eyes fixed on the chemicals on the table. He began measuring specific quantities of each and putting them into test tubes.

 

“I’m home, love,” John said cheerfully as he entered their flat. He came into the kitchen with a bag in his hand. “I also picked up dinner from Angelo’s since we didn’t eat anything last night. I didn’t have much time for lunch today, so I’m absolutely famished.” He kissed Sherlock on the forehead and moved to the counter to set the bag down.

 

“Is this the same experiment as the one you were working on a few days ago when Lestrade called with the case?” He asked, watching as Sherlock steadily poured a portion of sodium bisulfate into a test tube containing mercury (II) chloride.

 

Sherlock sighed. “No, John. In the experiment you are referring to from three days ago, I tested the effect various chemicals had when in contact with liver tissue. As you can see, there are no liver samples on our kitchen table. Obviously.” He didn’t mean to sound so rude, but he was nervous about the food his flatmate had brought home with him. 

John pursed his lips and huffed. “Not everyone is a genius like you, you great bloody twat,” he muttered, turning to face the counter. He emptied the bag and began putting pasta and bread onto two plates.

 

_ Two _ plates. John expected him to eat. He couldn’t. Sherlock felt like he was gaining weight just from the smell of the food. He wanted to eat, but he knew he’d regret it as soon as he took the first bite. Besides, his body would be ruined. Why would fit, beautiful John ever want a bloated cow like him?

 

John had the two plates ready, one in each hand. “Let’s eat dinner and watch telly, Sherlock. Can this experiment wait a bit?” 

 

“Not hungry.”

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“No, John.”

 

“You’re not on a case, so that means you eat. We agreed on this.”

 

“Well, I don’t want any,” Sherlock snapped, trying to concentrate on test tubes in front of him. He poured his chemical mixture into a beaker containing potassium iodate, waiting a few seconds until the clear liquid turned into an orange-red color like a ripening tomato. He jotted down a few notes. After a moment, the mixture turned black. He added a few more observations to his notebook, attempting to ignore John. However, John refused to give up. He set the plates on the counter and put his hands on his hips. 

 

“Sherlock, it’s been days since you’ve had a proper meal. You’re going to eat.”

 

“No.”

 

“I know you’re hungry. We didn’t eat after getting home from finishing the case late last night and I doubt you’ve bothered to eat an actual meal today while I’ve been at the clinic.”

 

“I. Said. I’m. Not. Hungry. So leave me alone!”

 

“Sherlock! You are going to eat. Right. Now.” John demanded in his captain voice. 

 

There was silence as John waited for him to react. He bit his bottom lip and thought. He always became nervous when John was angry with him. If he didn’t do as his boyfriend ordered, John would become even angrier and storm out of the flat. Sherlock was always pushing his partner’s limits. What if this was the last straw and John left for good? He could maybe tolerate a few bites to make John feel better, he decided with a sigh as all the fight in him left.

 

“Fine,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands placed in his lap.

 

John’s posture immediately shifted from straight and austere to soft and kind. He no longer seemed like a threat. At that moment, seeing Sherlock’s sad surrender, John switched from determined doctor and soldier to concerned lover.

 

“Hey, love. Look at me,” he said softly, stepping closer to his boyfriend. When Sherlock remained motionless, he used a finger to lift the man’s pointed chin.

 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Sherlock replied just as softly, still not looking John in the eyes.

 

“I know you’re lying. Believe it or not, I’m not as much as an idiot as you always think I am,” John joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  
“I know you’re not, John. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t think you were amazing.”

 

John huffed out a laugh. “Oh, you’re complimenting me now, love? That proves there's definitely something wrong. Please, tell me. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

 

“I just… I don’t want to eat.”

 

“Do you not feel well? Are you sick?” John asked, concerned. He felt his lover’s forehead for signs of a fever.

 

“I’m fine, I just don’t want to eat,” Sherlock told him, still refusing to look him in the eyes. He was becoming frustrated both with himself for feeling weak and out of control and with John for being so persistent. He knew that if he looked his boyfriend in the eyes he’d cry. Sherlock hated crying in front of John.

 

“There has to be a reason, Sherlock. We just got done with a case. You haven’t eaten since we finished. I let it slide last night because we were both tired and just wanted to sleep but now you really need to eat. I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.”

 

“I said I’d eat. Please, just let it go.”

 

John grabbed his lover’s shoulders and gently forced him to turn toward him. Then he delicately cupped Sherlock’s face with his hands, turning the younger man’s face toward his. “Sweetheart. I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight and now you’re refusing to eat.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he attempted to move away from John but his boyfriend kept a firm grip on him. He thought he’d hidden the weight loss well and hadn’t realized John had noticed.

 

“You always say that I see, but do not observe. Well, I  _ observe _ that you’ve lost even more weight than is normal, even for you. I can also tell that there is a reason behind your refusal to eat. Sherlock, love, please tell me. Let me help you, sweetheart. _Please_. Look at me.”

 

Slowly, Sherlock looked at his boyfriend. The love and kindness in John’s gaze overwhelmed him and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. “John,” he whined, trying not to cry.

 

“Sherlock, love, it’ll be okay. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Tears began to seep from his eyes despite his efforts to restrain them. “John…” he murmured.

 

John stepped closer to Sherlock, his hands still cupping his face. His face was inches from his boyfriend's, his breath warm on Sherlock’s skin.

 

“Tell me,” John whispered.

 

The tears were falling freely now. “I just don’t want to be disgusting. I don’t want you to realize how unworthy I am of you and decide to leave me. I need you, John. Please, don’t go,” Sherlock cried, his body shaking.

 

“Oh, love,” John said, wiping Sherlock’s tears away with his fingers. “You’re not unworthy of me, darling. How could you ever think that? You’re absolutely gorgeous!” He began pressing little kisses all over his lover’s face. Sherlock just cried harder.

 

“How could you possibly want me? I’m just fat and you’re so strong and amazing.”

 

“You are not fat, Sherlock! Don’t you dare ever say that again!” John ordered, getting angry. “You’re underweight, Sherlock. You need to eat!” Sherlock didn’t reply. He just pressed closer to John, needing him near. Needing to feel the heat of his body. He couldn’t believe the possibility that wonderful John could ever want him as much as the consulting detective wanted him. 

 

Sherlock felt weak. He didn’t want to seem weak to John, but he couldn’t help himself. He was falling apart at the seams and there was nothing he could do to keep himself together. Luckily, John was there to help him. His boyfriend held him close as sobs wracked his body, whispering that everything would be okay, that he wouldn’t desert him, and that he loved him no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/criticism/whatever! Even if it's just to correct something, I'd love to hear it. Thanks again for reading! :)


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